


Too Close For Comfort

by Winter_Lights



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Regency, War of 1812
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 13:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12749040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Lights/pseuds/Winter_Lights
Summary: When the Mothership and its new pilot, Emma Whitmore, are tracked to Regency era London, Lucy and Wyatt are sent on a mission to stop Rittenhouse's new plot, along with their new temporary teammate Garcia Flynn.The assassination of Prime Minister Spencer Perceval has been averted, and the team suspects Emma is the cause. Now it's a race against time to stop her from giving any more secrets to the British on the eve of the War of 1812. In the middle of it all, Flynn finds himself involved with a widow whose very fate may rest in his hands...





	Too Close For Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the beginning of this chapter features a somewhat graphic murder of a woman. Reader discretion is advised.

May 11th, 1812 – London, England 

“The Prime Minister is dead!” 

Shouts rang out through the crowd as the news was loudly spread among the throngs of onlookers. 

“Shot on the Parliament floor!”

“My God, how dreadful!”

“What traitor is responsible for this?”

“They say he just sat there afterward, like he was proud!”

Shouts continued through the crowd.

Three women watched from the sidewalk. They all wore empire-waisted walking dresses , two in light colors, and one in teal. Each one had perfectly coiffed hair under neat bonnets. Anyone who saw them could tell they three were wealthy. 

“Cecilia, can you believe it?” On said, taking her sister by the arm. “So horrible!”

Cecilia’s hand was over her mouth in horror. Her two younger sisters were barely out in society and didn’t know how to behave during a tragedy. However, she, a widow just out of mourning, tried to guide them to the appropriate response. “Be quiet. We must be respectful. Do not make a fool of yourself! We’re to be the example for the masses, you know.”  
She allowed them to watch the throng a little longer, but as it began to disperse, she turned them towards their London home. The crowd was thick as a foggy morning, and soon she was separated from her sisters. She found herself swept along, unable to get back to them. She could see them giggling with their heads together, but they hadn’t noticed she had been left behind.

“Need some help, ma’am?” 

Cecilia turned to see a young man in old clothes waving to her. “This will get you back home in no time,” He said, waving to an alley. 

Cecilia shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He said. “You look like you can hardly breathe.”

He was spot on in his assessment. The day had reminded her too much of the day her husband died and the hot, shoving crowd was making her dizzy. 

The man smiled kindly. “Come this way. I’ll help you. We’ll have you home in just a bit.”

Cecilia nodded, too overwhelmed to protest. 

They walked down the alley and took a turn, but the turn seemed wrong. Something made Cecilia feel wary.

“Are you sure this is the correct way?” She asked, hanging back.

“Of course.” He assured her. “The normal way is blocked, but this is the next fastest. We’ll hit the next one and right ourselves.” 

Cecilia stopped. “No, sir. Thank you for your kindness, but I am going to head back.” She turned on her heel and raised a nervous hand to her bonnet. Her heart raced and her heels clicked faster on the stones.

A hand jerked her backwards. The man grabbed her and waved a knife. “Look how stuck up you are! I’ll have to fix that for you!”

Cecilia tried to free herself from his grip, but he held on and threw her against the wall. “Stop struggling and this will be much easier.” He growled.

She could smell alcohol on his breath and the stench of someone who hadn’t washed in days. She coughed from the smell.

His face fell. “What’s wrong? Too good for what you see?”

She kicked him, but he still wouldn’t let go. “You disgusting bastard!” She yelled. “Let go!” 

He made a large movement and slapped her across the face. She recoiled and fell. He jumped on her and pinned her down. “That dress will fetch a pretty pence.” He smirked. “Too bad for you.”

She screeched and clawed, but he held fast. He raised the knife and plunged it into her chest.

Blinding pain ripped through her as she struggled to breathe. He slashed again and again and again. 

Cecilia felt herself weaken. Her senses blurred. She couldn’t breathe! She choked and fought, but her vision was going. 

The last thing she saw was his face above her, suddenly seeming to realize exactly what he had done. He stumbled backwards, dropping the knife. She heard his panicked steps as he ran.

Her head lulled to the side. She didn’t have the strength to keep it up anymore. 

She thought of her sisters, her parents, and how they would never know what happened. 

The last face she saw in her mind was her husband. They weren’t in love, but they had become friends. She felt comforted as he reached out for her. “Come on, Cecilia. Let’s go home.”

A final breath rattled from her chest and she laid still.

 

May 8th, 1812 – Outside London, England

Sunlight caressed the dew-covered field, green with early spring. A light mist hung over the grass, breaking the sun’s rays into a glow. Birds chirped early morning songs. Sounds from a nearby town echoed over the rolling hills. 

The peace was broken by a booming shock wave. A silver machine materialized, two rings whirling around it. They slowed with load, mechanical groans. They came to a stop. After a few moments of silence, the birds returned to their chorus.

A circular hole in the side of the ship slid open, and three passengers emerged. The first was a woman in a riding habit, with a black skirt and a slate gray bodice. A black top hat was pinned to her dark hair, and a short mesh fall was attached to the back of the hat. It blew lazily in a gentle morning breeze. She hoisted her skirts up and jumped the few feet to the ground in an experienced bound. 

As she turned, her companion emerged. He was well built and looked elegant in his brown tailcoat, high-waist tan pantaloons, black boots, and cream vest and shirt. He hit the ground in a sturdy stance, then looked around at their surroundings. He stretched and ran a hand through his sandy brown hair.

Finally, a tall, dark haired man emerged, dressed in a black waistcoat, white britches, tall black boots, and a dark blue overcoat. He was older than his companions, with a sharp nose and heavy eyebrows. His intense eyes, stormy blue-gray in color, took in every detail around him. He hung on to the door while he leaned out, using his height to get a read on the landscape. 

“See anything?” The woman said.

He shook his head. “You were right. This area is deserted.” He spoke with a Slavic accent.

The woman nodded. “It’s a shame Rufus didn’t want to come.” She said. 

“Yeah, but he did a good job guiding me through piloting the Lifeboat.” The shorter man said. 

“And you can thank Mason for his rundown beforehand.” She replied.

 

The three flagged down a post carriage on the road. The two men exchanged glances while the woman did all the talking. Finally, after the exchange of a few coins, the three were allowed to board. 

“Nice call, Luce.” The shorter man said after the coach began to move. He smiled and turned his head to look at her. 

Lucy smiled back, the looked away. She felt her cheeks burning. It was nice to be back on the job with Wyatt, though she felt the glaring absence of the third member of their team. However, Rufus had insisted on staying with Jiya, who had been moved to a special government hospital for observation after complaining about strange headaches and visions.

She knew Wyatt was also not happy about their new traveling companion. Across from them, Garcia Flynn sat staring out the window. Agent Christopher had made a miraculous deal with the CIA to allow him to take Rufus’s place. After all, they were all on the same side now.

The carriage was less comfortable than any of them imagined it could possibly be, and once, they came to a stop when the front wheels got stuck in deceptively deep mud.  
They arrived in London not long after. Wyatt was thankful for the short ride. He wasn’t sure if he could take the swaying of the carriage anymore. He exited the transport first, turning to help Lucy down the stairs. Flynn followed, slipping his black top hat on and stepping down the wooden ladder.

The air smelled of coal and waste. Wyatt wrinkled his nose. “I guess I know why they always call London dirty in the movies.”

Lucy also found the smell awful, though she had expected it.

“I assume Emma and her team are headed for parliament.” Flynn said. The din of the street masked their conversation.

Lucy nodded as she confidently led the two men. “Three days from now, the Prime Minister is shot and killed by a radical. I assume Rittenhouse wants to prevent it.”

“You never got to explain why.” Wyatt said.

“It’s a win for Rittenhouse.” Lucy answered. “If he isn’t killed, certain reforms won’t be enacted. The US declares war on Britain next month, and with these things not repealed, the US is in a better position in the conflict and may be able to garner more international support. A decisive win would bolster the US much faster on the international stage, and gives Rittenhouse more influence sooner.”

“They’re looking for an international footing.” Flynn predicted. “They want to undo what we you did to them by creating safe havens around the world.”

“No thanks to you.” Wyatt growled. 

Flynn ignored the aggression in Wyatt’s voice.

They were stopped by a policeman on the steps outside the House of Parliament. “And where do you think you’re goin’?” He asked. 

“We’re looking for a friend of ours.” Lucy said. “A red haired woman. Did she come this way?”

“No, and I think I’d ‘ave seen another American flouncing around. No one but authorized personnel beyond this point. We had credible evidence of a threat against the Prime Minister and we’re not takin’ chances. Off you go.” He gave Wyatt and Flynn both a good shove in the back.

Lucy scampered after them, her mouth and eyebrows drawn in worry.

“So she beat us here.” Flynn muttered. 

“But who did she warn?” Lucy said, more to herself than the others. She wracked her brain, trying to think.

They passed two men in long black coats reading a newspaper. Lucy felt her heart stop as she read the headline.

“Can you believe it?” One man exclaimed to the other.

Lucy grabbed Wyatt’s sleeve and discretely pointed at the newspaper. Flynn also turned.

PRIME MINISTER THREATENED, CONSPIRATOR ARRESTED

“We’re too late.” Wyatt said in disbelief.

Flynn grimaced. “There’s no such thing as too late. This can be fixed.”

Lucy turned on him. “Whatever you’re planning, the answer is no. You’re not supposed to get in trouble.”

Flynn laughed. “Both of you have proven that you don’t like to get your hands dirty. This might require dirty hands.” 

“No one’s getting their hands dirty.” Lucy insisted. “We just have to figure out where Emma is and what she’s doing.”

“We should probably find a place to stay, first.” Flynn advised. “Get a base of operation going.”

Lucy felt the tug of duty pulling at her, but she also knew it would be best if they found a place to stay. She agreed. “I think this is going to take longer than we thought.”

 

Once they were settled, Flynn slipped out with Wyatt to grab supplies from the Lifeboat. Meanwhile, Lucy headed out to see what she could learn. There was chatter all over of the brave woman who had come forward to rat out the man who would have murdered the Prime Minister.

She passed through the crowds, dodging carriages and marveling at the fact that she was really seeing Regency era England. She thought back to the time she had gone to see Pride and Prejudice with her sister and felt a familiar pang of grief. How much longer would it be before this would all end and she could see her again. 

Lucy rounded a corner and found herself almost in the backs of two women in lace bonnets walking slowly. They were deep in conversation.

“Did you hear? Prime Minister Perceval and his wife will have her as a guest at a ball tonight!” One woman said excitedly to her walking companion. 

“What an event that will be! I wish I could be there to see it!” Her friend giggled. They hurried on, too busy with their own gossip to notice Lucy listening. 

She smiled. It sounded like Emma went straight to the man himself. And now she knew what to do. Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite as sure how to do it.

 

She returned to their rooms and waited for Wyatt and Flynn to return. Wyatt looked agitated when they entered. Flynn followed with a trunk. 

“What happened?” She asked. 

Wyatt glared at Flynn. “He wants to murder the Prime Minister himself!” 

Lucy’s eyes flew open. “These walls are probably paper thin! Keep it down!”

Meanwhile, Flynn had opened the case and sat on a bed, assembling what appeared to be a sniper rifle. 

“And where the hell did you get that?” Wyatt exclaimed. 

“I came prepared. I had intended this for Emma, but it looks like other arrangements will have to be made.” 

“No! No one is killing anyone if I have a say!” Lucy hissed in frustration. She clenched her hands as she watched them both. “History has already been changed. All we can do now is mitigate damage. And yes, I know how weird it is to hear me say that.”

Wyatt stood and put a comforting hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He said. He gave a long look into her brown eyes. All too soon, he broke away and went to look out the window.

“I know where Emma is.” Lucy said, breaking the silence.

Both men looked at her, anticipation written on their faces.

“Apparently the Prime Minister is hosting her at a ball tomorrow.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow.

“Just like Jane Austen.” Lucy confirmed.

“I don’t think we can just crash a ball.” Wyatt said, frowning. “Besides, I wouldn’t be any good at a ball. Especially with a bunch of rich nobles.” He looked at Flynn. “But he’s pretty good at getting into places he shouldn’t be.” There was a grudging respect in his voice.

“Do you think you can do it?” Lucy asked hopefully.

Flynn put the rifle down on the bed and stood. He smiled ruefully. “Give me a few hours.” He turned and grabbed his coat from a rack next to the door. As his hand touched the doorknob, Lucy stopped him.

“Be careful.” She warned. “We can’t change history more than we already have.”

“I won’t make any promises I may not be able to keep.” He said gravely. He pulled himself away from her. He noted her concerned look, but continued out into the hall. He closed the door behind him. 

Lucy and Wyatt listened in the room as Flynn’s footsteps faded down the corridor.

Wyatt let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe we have to do this with him.” 

Lucy gave him a sympathetic look. “I know, but it’s better to have him with us than against us.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes.

“I know.” Lucy sighed. “I’m not happy with it, either.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is certainly a long time coming. It's been seven years since my last foray into fanfiction, and my first post here. It's also a nice break from the novel I'm supposed to be working on and my excuse for writing something set in Regency England.
> 
> My goal is to make my readers feel as if they are watching an episode. I hope you all enjoy it.


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